


To Heal And Be Healed

by joufancyhuh



Series: When Darkness Comes [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Cullen as a Warden, F/M, Set after Awakening, Warden AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-15 04:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16055606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: A storm allows Solona to probe Cullen about his thoughts on the Wardens and mages.





	To Heal And Be Healed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morrezela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/gifts).



> Based off the idea that Cullen, after Kinloch Hold, hunts down and kills mages before the templars grab him and send him to Kirkwall. I think that ended up being retconned by the writer (or it might still be canon) but it's certainly canon in this story.
> 
> Thank you to barbex for betaing.

 

"Do you still think we're bad people?" 

The rain from outside the cave shows no sign of stopping, much to the chagrin of both Solona and Cullen as the two stand in the narrow entryway, gazes focused on the downpour. Solona's question echoes the short distance of the shelter they ducked into when the first signs of the storm plopped onto her nose. She wears her blue Warden-Commander uniform, but as she exists there in this moment with her old flame, she feels anything but the strong, war-minded Warden she became in the last two years. 

Cullen's uniform, while not quite the same, matches hers, though the undertone of his skin puts the grey in Grey Wardens. His lyrium withdrawal goes well, but today happens to be one of his bad days, which is why they separated from the group, to get him back to the Keep while he remains on his feet. The pain of his withdrawal resembles that of a tide, and she knows that with one powerful wave, he'll sink and let it overtake him. The outbursts that accompany the pain leave him unpredictable, and Anders insisted on tagging along, but she wished for some solitude with Cullen, to probe where his thoughts now lay. Many moons passed since she forced the Joining onto him, and while he begrudgingly took to the ranks after months of rehabilitation from the residual delirium of his experiences in Kinloch Hold, she still worried if she made the wrong choice. He stopped calling her "maleficar" though, so that was progress, a good sign. And he no longer lunged after mages with his sword in hand, intent on dealing them harm. 

The rain continues on in his stead, though he does incline his head toward her to show he heard the question. Cullen, once so full of life and nervous babbling, now stays quiet most days, pensive, his boyish face lost under the short golden beard he maintains. She embraces this new side to him, because she knows that what happened to him at Kinloch Hold forever changed him. It's why she found him when she hunted down the rogue templar who killed mages in Amaranthine, surprised to discover the identity and to find him crazed and delusional and  _ angry _ , so enraged that he came after her, too. She doesn't claim to know or understand his experiences, but she wants to be there for him this time, to set it right once more.

There's no point in repeating the question, not when she knows he understood it, though maybe he didn't and that's why the long pause. She means the Wardens, since he accused them of abusing their power,  _ her  _ power, to keep him there and not return him to his templar brethren. But perhaps she includes mages as well, does he still see all as a threat? Has anything she done mattered or are his fears worse now than before? 

But he shifts his weight onto his left leg ever so slightly, his hand coming up to scratch at his beard. His marigold eyes mirror the storm, his inner turmoil, which matches the thunder that rumbles their small hideaway, flickering like a streak of lightning in his gaze. "Individually, no." It's his new clipped way of speaking which he knows annoys her because it forces her to ask more probing questions. She wants more for an answer and he acts the fool and pretends not to know it. 

"But as a whole, you still believe us bad?" 

Cullen turns away from the rain, into the cool darkness of the cave. He sinks to the ground with his back to the wall, knees pulled to his chest.  "You believe all templars bad?" 

She copies him by sitting across from him, crossing her legs as she leans back against the chilled rock wall. "No, never." Her fingers find the end of her dark braid, and she brushes the hair against her palm. "I met plenty of good templars when I lived in the Circle. It's unfair of me to judge the rest by the few bad ones I've encountered." 

"As a whole?"

Her lips twist into a frown as her hands fall away into her lap. As a whole, she saw the templars as corrupt puppets to the Chantry, but only as an organization, not as a people. With her own question turned against her, she understands now why he struggles to give her the answer she seeks. Instead of fighting him on it, she changes tactics. "You forget, I was there at the Circle. I saw what my kind did. It was ... awful. But they didn't only come after the templars. The children, the Tranquil, no one was spared." Glimpses of memory flash before her eyes, the horror she found there, the thick stench of death. And in the middle of it all, Cullen. Alive. She thanked the Maker he lived amidst the chaos. 

Cullen averts her gaze, staring to deeper in the cave, but she presses on, because they haven't yet talked of this. "What you went through, I'm not trying to ask you to forgive those who did it. I understand, I have always understood why you've changed the way you have. Cullen, I trusted them too. Those blood mages, they were once my  _ friends _ ." 

A clap of thunder makes him wince, his eyes shut tight against the sound. It dawns on her that his headache arrived while they stayed there in the dry, and she hadn't noticed. Scooting in close to him, she reaches out. "May I?" When he only stares at her flexing fingers, abject horror in his eyes, she pulls back a little. "Please, let me help. Have I given you a reason not to trust me?"

A fight plays out in his mind that she glimpses through his eyes. Finally, he lets out a sigh and nods, allowing her to move across the distance. Leaning him so that his head rests in her lap, she thrums her healing magic into her fingertips while they card through his blonde hair. She imagined many times a scenario similar to this one, but never quite like this. Never them as Wardens, him with a headache, her with her secret crush. His hair is soft to the touch, a bit oily like her own, she enjoys zigzagging through his curls. 

"Is nice," he mumbles, almost curling into her lap. 

She can't resist ribbing him a little. "See what happens when you trust me?"

Another loud echo of thunder causes him to bury his face into her thighs, but her ears don't miss the small, "I do ... trust you," that gets whispered against her armor. She decides not to comment on it, though a tinge of heat rises into her cheeks as they continue to wait out the storm in comfortable silence. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should apologize. It took too long to come up with an idea, but once I had it, I got swept away. That was two weeks before the deadline. With the chaos going on in my life right now and the fic being at 5K, I had to make a decision. But I loved Warden Cullen and this idea, so it was then decided I would do a one-shot from it. This will either end up being a long-fic or a series of one-shots. It's gonna get rough, because I can't not have my angst. I sorta picture Cullen here as Mad Max from Fury Road. 
> 
> Constructive criticism welcome!


End file.
